Virtue
by jorge martinez
Summary: Castiel thinks about Angels, Humanity, and Dean. Destiel. Slash.


After meeting the Winchesters, Castiel became interested in the lore man has created about Angels— specifically, how the winged servants were and are portrayed throughout the hairless apes' time with written language. In the sacred texts, those divined by dead prophets, his kind are characterized as they ought to be: servants of the Lord, bent to God's will and entirely loyal to Heaven. He reads these and understands them as righteous histories, ones gifted to man by the Archangels, but he comes across other writings.

In these, Angels are given a new face: they are still "holy" and often the protagonists of stories, but they just aren't Angels. They make silly mistakes, they disobey the word of their Father, and they even betray each other for the petty love of humans and lustful pursuits. Castiel supposes that man may have become confused— after all, they are God's favorite, and the favorite child tends to have delusions of grandeur when he becomes too spoiled. That is the story of Lucifer, and Castiel wonders if that is the story of man: a spoiled child, rotten with greed and narcissism despite his imperfection.

Uriel would have him believe that, but Castiel knows those thoughts are blasphemous and dispels them— yet, he is still wrought with confusion: if man isn't twisted, then why is his mythology so wrong? Maybe it can be credited to his ignorance or God's absence or Heaven's general distance from his life, but something is amiss—

The "Angels" are still heroic, pious in some cases, but they remind him more of Dean than himself. They are physically appealing to a contemporary standard, empathetic, headstrong, and concerned with a "deadbeat" Father that they love yet doubt. Perhaps they don't doubt Him at the beginning of the story, but they always come to, and Castiel has seen Dean look to the ground for consolation when John's name rises in conversation.

Castiel was baffled when Dean met him and thought him unangelic, but now he understands why the man could not recognize him: Castiel is nothing like the picture of "Angelic" that a modern human would conjure. He wonders if humanity has lost its faith, but it is the faithful who are most skewed: they worship porcelain figures of blond-haired beauties, cast in the shape of man and the light of man and the idea of man, whispering prayers written by and for man to these false visages.

Religion isn't God, but God drew this path, and Castiel will not doubt his Father. He is an Angel of old— but the more he reads, the more his thoughts conflict one another. If God loved humanity so much, why give them free reign to kill each other? If God loved humanity so much, why not grant them the powers and responsibilities of Heaven, instead of making them soft and helpless? If God loved humanity so much, why place them on Earth, one of his lesser realms? And if God loved humanity so much, why does its destruction rest in the hands of Angels and Demons? He knows the apocalypse will ultimately lead to a new Paradise, but why force them to suffer a pain that is hardly their own, a feud that belongs between Michael and Lucifer? Why—

He materializes in a motel named Lemon Verbena, somewhere in a state called Florida. The room is sticky with humidity, even with the air conditioner running full blast, and he sees both the Winchesters have fallen asleep wrapped in lime green sheets. Sam claimed the bed closest to the window, and he faces the glass, dreaming of his mother and a yellow-eyed demon. Castiel knows the abomination fell asleep shaking for a poorly quelled addiction, but it isn't his place to say anything. Instead, he looks at Dean, and for a hideous moment he understands why humans have rewritten Angels: striped in Miami's bustling nightlife filtered through half-drawn shades, Castiel sees beautiful intention drawn in the contours of his face and chest.

Dean is willful, concerned with the greater good, and while his methods are questionable at best, he always pulls through with stunning determination. He's imperfect, but his flaws add to, rather than detract from, his character; it seems that while he can do wrong, his wrong is justified. Dean strives for family and for friends and for the sake of all, and while he treats himself to physical temptations, he is mentally disciplined. He knows his place on the road, and he knows his place with Sam, and while he doesn't yet accept his place with Heaven, it is with a contempt that extends beyond selfish reason: humanity, the safety of it, is Dean's concern, and Castiel can only assume it is God's concern—

What parent doesn't love the favorite child? But what parent lets their favorite's fate rest in the hands of lesser progeny?

Castiel steps closer and places his hand over the mark he left on Dean's arm. The man hardly stirs, and Castiel tilts his head, watching his eyes flutter beneath their lids, his lips parted in a silenced plea. He's having a nightmare, and Castiel touches his forehead to soothe it. Dean stills, but Castiel knows he must go before he wakes, because he isn't sure of how he would explain his presence.

In a flicker, Castiel is on an empty beach, one closed to the public at night. Waves crash to shore, a salt-scented breeze soothes his heart, and the sand looks pearly in the moonlight. He leans down to take handful, squeezing until only the tiniest grains cling to his palm. His vessel would be sweating, as the air is still oppressive without the sun's aid, but he cannot fathom such a sensation. It is his thoughts that draw heat to mind, and he recalls one story he read about an Angel who fell from Heaven to have a single kiss from a man who reminded her of her Father—

Maybe, if only for a second, he understands humans.


End file.
